Kings of the North (51 page)

Kieri looked at the Knight-Commander. “Something we did not know—to these people, the Webmistress has appeared as a helper, even a savior, as she has enmeshed them in her plots without their awareness.”

“That cannot be,” the Knight-Commander said. “Every man and woman can sense evil and good—”

“Unless through long exposure they have been blinded and deafened,” Kieri said. “They accepted her aid first in a time of great peril for them; they were new in the land and did not know one from another. But it is her influence that has kept them hostile so long, and she has kept them fearful with her lies and insinuations, and her punishments as well.”

“You say they were new in the land—where did your people come from?” The Knight-Commander now looked at the king of Pargun.

“From across the eastern sea, from the land below the mountains,” he said. “Those lords from Aare came and drove us out, enslaving us, tormenting us. We came here for refuge, for we had fished in these waters since time began.”

“Ancestors of those who tormented me also tormented them,” Kieri said. “And it was his people—the Seafolk—who brought me home again when I escaped my tormentor. We have that in common. It is not much, but it must be enough if we are not to see this land ablaze with war, and his as well. You know what the elves and some of the Council thought, when the sword proclaimed me. They were afraid I would bring war here, though I swore I had no such intent. A soldier, they said, could not bring peace.”

“But you did—”

“No.” Kieri shook his head. “I meant to; I wanted to. But I did not know enough—I did not know that in Pargun they believe all women soldiers—even women knights—are but playthings of the men they serve with. He believed all these years that the women who joined my Company and others were lured from home, from the protection of brothers and fathers, and then abused.”

“Falk’s Hall?” The Knight-Commander sounded as furious as Kieri had first felt.

“Yes. And his informants, her escorts—” He nodded at Elis. “—told him the same. So in my attempt to honor her wishes, and do her honor by sending her to you, where I knew she would be safe, I provoked this conflict. True, the king’s brother had intended it, but I fell into his trap the same way the Pargunese as a whole fell into Achrya’s.”

“I must go back,” Elis said in a small voice. “I must go back, mustn’t I? To save the kingdoms. To save …” Her voice faltered. “To save the king’s life.”

“No,” Kieri said. “If you went back, they would not believe what you said. Your father told me so. They want you back, but only to lock you up. That is a waste of any young life, let alone that of a princess of Pargun.”

“But then he—”

“Be still, recruit,” the Knight-Commander said, but not roughly. “You are not yet in command.” Her cheeks flushed, but she said nothing. To Kieri, he said, “You have a plan?”

“I have a thought to lay before you,” Kieri said. “Early this morning we two kings met and laid out every possibility we could think of. We may have missed something, but we think we have a way to have peace, with a king we know on the throne of Pargun, and Elis of Pargun safe and unmarried.”

“A great ending, if such is possible,” the Knight-Commander said.

“It will need your cooperation, and Elis’s, if it is possible at all,” Kieri said. “And Pargun may yet flare into war, for the king now understands that Achrya held her own aims, not the welfare of Pargun, uppermost. His brother, surely, is deep in her toils, committed to her service, and yet I believe these men—this king and many others—to be honorable at root, only mazed.”

“You never thought that before,” the Knight-Commander said, with a wry twist of the mouth.

“True, I did not,” Kieri said. “I thought them bad men and enemies, as they thought me. A year ago—no, even last winter—I saw nothing but enemies to the east, where Pargun lay, and they, looking west, saw the same. And where did that get us all? Endless war, hot or cold. And all blinded by fear and anger, so evil—whether Achrya or another—could intrude.”

“You sound like an elf,” the Knight-Commander said.

“I am by half,” Kieri said, shrugging. “But elf or human, I know that peace is better for the people and the land than constant war. It does not, as we have discussed before, mean unreadiness for war should it come.”

“Well,” the Knight-Commander said, leaning forward. “What is this thought?”

Together, Kieri and the king of Pargun laid out their idea, scarcely a plan as yet. Kieri made sure the Pargunese king spoke as much as he wished, that it was clear to Elis and the Knight-Commander that he was under no duress other than the reality of their mutual danger.

“Elis is of the royal house; she is nominally under the king’s command at all times.”

This time Elis merely looked at the Knight-Commander, not even opening her mouth; he shook his head.

“If we have peace, I need an ambassador at both this court and the court of Tsaia,” the king said. “We have always used members of the royal family; as Elis knows, I sent my wife’s sister here for the king’s coronation. For the last coronation, one of my brothers; I have heard here that he made a fool of himself on southern wine.”

“Brandy,” the Knight-Commander said. “We thought you had strong drink at home.”

“We do, but he was never allowed so much,” the king said. “But he was a young man.” He shrugged.

Kieri steered them back to the current matter. “As a member of the royal family, Elis could be an ambassador. She is young, and not yet skilled in the arts of diplomacy, but she is indubitably Pargunese.”

“I could at least trust
her
to tell the truth,” the king said. “She would always do so, even when it was inconvenient.”

Elis chuckled; they all looked at her, and she blushed. “Go ahead,” the Knight-Commander said.

“I’m sorry, sir—but the king—my father—is right. I hated courtly graces and pretense, and used to say the most appalling things … they were all true, but ill-timed.”

“Falk’s Knights must be courteous to all, in all difficulties,” the Knight-Commander said. He glanced at the king of Pargun. “It is one of the Precepts,” he said. “Our recruits must learn and practice courtesy, for Falk, even under humiliation, never stooped to rudeness.”

“We value plain speaking,” the king said.

“And we value the truth, but neither plain-speaking nor the truth need be rude,” the Knight-Commander said.

“The day turns,” Kieri said. “We have not much time, I think, from what the king said.” The king nodded. “If we succeed, we will have more time to learn one another’s ways, and discuss whether courtesy is lies or plain-speaking always truthful. But not now.”

They all looked at him. He smiled at them, a smile he had used on his troops. It had the same effect, he saw.

“If the king appoints Elis as his ambassador, and can convince his nobles that she has been honored—and if he can convince them that my past torments across the sea create a common ground with his people—”

“But will they accept a woman so young as an ambassador?”

The king shrugged. “I do not know. I can hope. She is known to be strong-willed, and to have read more than any of our other children. And she is, for our people, over-age for marriage. As an ambassador, she would be serving our people, and be—at least formally—under my command. We have sent women before; she is just younger than the others.”

“Her training at Falk’s Hall?”

“On my orders,” the king said, “now that I have met its commander, because I deem it the best way for her to learn about your people, and confirm or deny what we have long believed. All know she is awkward at court; at your court I would be fearful she might create an insult—” Elis looked furious, but said nothing, Kieri noticed. Only a short time in Falk’s Hall and she was already learning self-control. “So I would tell my people,” the king went on. Then, with a rueful look, “If they give me the chance.”

“I have called a Council meeting,” Kieri said. “They know, of course, about the Pargunese army across the river, and they know what forces we have, but I would refine this thought.”

“It’s sounding more and more like a plan to me,” the Knight-Commander said. “It lacks only the way you will keep the king alive until he has told his tale. If his brother indeed intends to seize the throne, then he will surely be ready to silence and kill the man the moment he comes within reach.” He looked at the Pargunese king. “Have you any trusted person to whom you can send a message?
Any way to communicate other than by putting your skin at risk?”

“I thought I had brothers I could trust,” the king said. “Until this.” He scowled at the table.

“Iolin?” Elis asked.

“Perhaps,” the king said. “One of my sons,” he said to the others. “Elis’s favorite brother.”

“Why do you think him reliable?” Kieri asked Elis.

“He never liked my uncle Einar. He even thought—he thought Einar wanted my father’s place. He had been friends with Einar’s son Ailin, but they quarreled over that, last winter, and he said he dared not tell our father, for he thought Einar would hear and do worse.”

“I will have to risk my skin somewhat,” the king said, “because it is not kingly to risk others in my stead. My people think a king is like the captain of a ship—the king must care more for the others than himself. He must risk himself, when risk is inevitable.” He smiled, a grim smile. “We do not have many aged kings.”

“Iolin and my brothers will not live long if Einar is king,” Elis said. “Indeed, he might contrive accidents for them now.”

“We are able to think, Elis,” the Knight-Commander said. “But you are right.” He smiled at the king, and Kieri noticed it was a much friendlier smile. “Sir King, your daughter is more than just headstrong and hasty—she has a head apt for both diplomacy and command, should she submit to training.” His smile widened. “Youngsters like these, once they start gaining their teeth, bite into life with gusto.”

“So she did,” the king said. “Had she been a boy—”

“We would not be sitting here trying to create a peace,” Kieri said. “ ‘If only’ will not serve us. She is what she is, what the gods made her. And we still need to get Pargun’s king back to Pargun.”

“I can see how you led a company all those years,” the king said. “But I cannot see how I will have a chance to speak to my people.”

“If you know someone trustworthy, to whom you could send a message, that one might arrange a meeting with you and some of your nobles. And Elis and the Knight-Commander, and me.”

“In Pargun?”

“No, not in Pargun. I will not cross the river. But here, in one of the river towns.”

A
cold wind blew through the trees; the last leaves were falling fast, carpeting the track with crimson, scarlet, orange, and gold, the colors still brilliant even under the clouds.

Kieri and the king of Pargun rode side by side; ahead were half the King’s Squires, and the rest behind. Though they had offered the king mail, he refused it, insisting his nobles would think he didn’t trust them or had turned coward. He carried a sword as sharp as anyone’s. The King’s Squires had protested, but Kieri insisted. The king must be clothed and armed as a king, for this to have a chance at all.

Ahead Kieri saw the Halveric troop from the town’s fort. He greeted Captain Talgan, then they went on into the wind’s teeth; it seemed to sharpen with every stride.

“It’s the river,” Talgan said. “Looks like snow coming, too. There’s already ice in the reeds along the shore.”

Kieri had not visited Riverwash formally before; it lay surrounded by an arc of meadow, with a swampy area downstream before the trees closed in. A road forked off to the east, back into the trees to avoid the swamp. The river here looked like hammered pewter in the dull light, ripples chasing themselves across the surface. Across it, Pargun showed only as a dark mass of trees beneath low clouds furrowed by wind. A small crowd waited outside the town’s wooden stockade and raised a shout as they came near.

Kieri waved to the crowd; so did the Pargunese king, somewhat stiffly. At the gate, two children wrapped in green cloaks and their anxious mothers waited to offer Kieri the only flowers left, pale asters in an untidy bundle, and a basket of fruit. Kieri dismounted and took them, touching each child on the forehead and then handing each a silver coin. Even the king paid toll to enter the town, but it was called “King’s Grace.”

At the fort on the riverbank, Kieri winced at the quality of the defenses. The Halverics had thrown up more earthworks, but it was more like a fortified camp than a true fort. It overlooked the landing stages that were stuck like fingers into the river; as a place to watch
river shipping come in and out and back up the toll-keepers, that made sense, but he put it on his mental list of things to talk to the cohort commander about.

On his orders, the cohort commander had reserved an entire inn, Sailors’ Rest, for the meeting: Kieri sent two Squires to make sure it was ready, a fire lit and hot food and drink.

The cohort commander sent men to light the torches on the largest landing stage, a signal to those across the river, and two men struggled to hold a dark blanket behind them. The flames streamed in the wind; Kieri hoped they could be seen before it got much darker. Torches also lit the fort itself. He squinted into the wind. His old stronghold, days north of the river, would be even colder by now. He could imagine the bare branches of Kolya’s apple orchard thrashing in this wind, the howl of it, the sentries up on the wall stamping their feet and hoping it was too cold for trouble to come in the dark.